


By Any Other Name

by izazaa (crazyground)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 03:17:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyground/pseuds/izazaa
Summary: While killing a bunch of human traffickers, Sniper accidentally picks up a sex slave, who is not what he seems. (fake slave!au)





	1. Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: dubious context (this is a fake slave!au so do venture with care), homophobic and ableist language, canon typical violence

On his way back from a mission, Sniper pulled up into a gas station, which was occupied by three trucks, one decked out with an ostentatious gatling gun welded to its roof, the other two labelled cargo. Fellow smugglers, it seemed.

Except unlike Sniper, who had killed his fair share of men but only hunted exotic animal parts for his mad doctor employer, the men sharing the first pit stop with him were human traffickers; Sniper had found this out after buying the gas station's last bottle of booze, which dismayed their ringleader so much that the vile man had offered a night with one of their cargo in return.

Pity Demo wasn't here, but Sniper managed to string a fuse to the gas pump that the first truck was attached to, both of which went up in an impressive explosion. And then from the cosy perch atop his van, he neatly pick off any remaining survivors. That left two trucks for their victims to drive back towards the first town, and hopefully return to their families.

Sniper grinned as he watched the two trucks drive off to freedom. Perhaps when he included this incident in his next letter home, his parents would feel marginally better about his profession. Either way, he felt quite proud of himself for how he handled things, neatly, with no loose ends nor any troublesome consequence.

Except when he opened the door to his camper to keep his rifle case, there was a man sitting on its floor, legs tucked beneath him neat and subservient, naked save for his underwear, and some sort of thin, thready red fabric wrapped around his head like a scarf, obscuring his features in an alluring fashion,beckoning for Sniper to unwrap his gift.

Sniper closed the door, then stared hard down the road the trucks had left on. They were long gone of course, and even the dust had settled in their wake.

"Sir…?" came his frightened voice, barely audible. Sniper groaned, and opened the door again.

"Bloody spook," he hissed. The man was pale as a ghost with all that naked skin glowing in the dark of his van. Sniper glared at the space above the man's left shoulder. He wasn't a prude, of course, but with the strange mask, and the oddly expensive black silk of his boxer briefs, and all that inappropriately bare skin, there wasn't anywhere on him that Sniper felt comfortable looking at. "Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my van?"

"I'm a – a _host_. The boss assigned me to you." And to dispel any confusion, he took Sniper's hand and put it on the side of his neck, thumb brushing the hollow of his throat. Sniper jerked away as though burned, and the man frowned. "Do you not…" He gestured at Sniper's crotch, and then his own, with, inexplicably, a vaguely pitying look.

"Yes, wait, _no_ !" he yelped, flapping his hands around as though they would convey for him, yes, he could, he would want to in any other circumstance, but _no_ , he really was _not_ going to… Do anything crotch related with him. "Look, your boss is dead. You're free to go."

Spook's eyes lit up briefly, before he peered past Sniper to the fiery remnants of the gas station, nary a vehicle left. "I don't have anywhere to go." The wobble in his voice would devastated lesser hardened men. "I don't have money. Or papers. I'll _perish_ in the desert."

"Hmm." While the man was nicely muscled for a slave, and his skin littered with all sorts of scars from injuries that hadn't managed to kill him, he was pasty. The sun alone would do him in. "Fine. _Fine_ , stay here until we get to the next city."

"Thank you! I'll make it worth your while." And then stood up and tried to step into Sniper's space, who promptly shoved the man back into the van. He tripped across the scant space, and collapsed onto the seat, thighs spread. Sniper reached in, and slapped his knees back together.

"There will be none do that," Sniper said firmly. Then he frowned. "Do you have a name?"

"You can call me whatever you want."

"I want," Sniper growled, "to call you by your name."

"But that's not how it works." A pause, nibbling his lip, before he cautiously met Sniper's gaze again, the smallest flicker of light in his eyes. "You called me 'spook' just now."

"Right. Spook." Given the circumstances, Sniper wasn't going to press for more. A quick glance around his camper showed that the cabinets were still locked, his weapons cache still hidden in the table's trunk. And since there didn't seem much else to say, he slammed the door shut once again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as they had driven a safe distance, and it was dark enough that Sniper was certain no one would spot them, he parked a ways off road, braced himself in the chilly desert air, then opened the door to his camper once again. Too cold to dawdle, it was only after he had locked himself in that he realised his passenger was still naked, and had had the audacity to spread himself out seductively along bench by the table.

A beat too late, Sniper tore his gaze away from those well defined thighs. "You're going to freeze," he snapped, then turned hurriedly away to fetch him some clothes, because he needed to cover up that bare skin, and pretend he felt no attraction to a slave. It didn't help that the man wasn't slender and soft like he'd assumed pleasure slaves were groomed to be, but lithely muscled, and his skin though pale was littered with battle scars. And when he went over to pass him a red, long sleeved shirt, he couldn't help but notice that in contrast to the deep red of his scarf, Spook's eyes were an alluring grey, cool and steely.

"There are other ways to warm me up," Spook said knowingly, and stroked Sniper's hand as he took the shirt from him.

Fortunately, the effect was rather ruined by how cold his fingers were. Sniper ignored this blithely to stuff him into the shirt, scowling as Spook leaned in for Sniper to button him up, all the way to the collar. And then to distract himself from the fetching sight Spook made in his shirt, Sniper got out his map and stretched it across the table between them.

There were plans to be made; they were on a stretch of vicious desert that was excruciatingly difficult to cross, whose only pit stops were unseemly towns or gas stations. Through grisly conflict, one cartel had risen to the top to monopolise most of the routes – and naturally, that cartel was the one that they pissed off.

Even with his distinctive camper van, Sniper was confident he could outrun the gang, but it would take some tricky manoeuvring to finish his errands and return to his teammates in Teufort while avoiding both getting killed, or dying in the desert without supplies.

The main problem was that they controlled the communication in and out of every settlement, and there was no way that Sniper could contact his team before leading a trail of angry cartel lords to their doorstep. There was also the matter of Medic's howler monkey throat and lungs in his slowly defrosting in his freezer. And what of his unwitting guest?

Oddly enough, he found great help in Spook. It was clear that Spook wasn't unintelligent; during his time with them, he had gathered an unexpectedly impressive amount of information on the gang's affairs, knew every base they occupied except their home base itself. This made finding the path of least resistance a much simpler task. As he folded the map back up, Sniper frowned at Spook.

"I don't understand. You have all this knowledge, and all that muscle –" Sniper held out a hand to stop Spook from further posing to flaunt his lean but sturdy figure "– you could've easily escaped."

Spook cast his gaze downwards, and finally agreed quietly, "I could have. But where would I have gone? And who would stand between them and the children?"

Sniper's mouth soured and his stomach sickened. Spook was right of course; the world was not such a convenient place. The atmosphere had turned suffocatingly heavy. Sniper scrubbed his face with a guilty hand, and decided it would be best for the both of them to turn in for the night. Tomorrow would be a new day, and all that.

He climbed up to the alcove where his mattress was, intending to take down the spare blanket for Spook to use. When he turned around however, Spook was right there behind him in the narrow space, having scurried up behind him without a sound. Sniper flinched, which startled Spook in turn, and he teetered backwards on the ladder. Without thinking, Sniper grabbed him by the collar and jerked him in. They tumbled into the teeny space, and the momentum bounced Sniper's head against the wall of his camper. When his vision refocused, Spook was sprawled across him, clutching his face in pain.

"You did that on purpose," Sniper griped. For a strange moment, he suspected Spook was glowering at him from behind his fingers with fire in his eyes, but when he lowered his hand, his eyes were only glimmering wet, and his nose was flaming red, having smacked into Sniper's collar bone.

Dodging the accusation, Spook said instead, "It only makes sense to share body heat. The desert gets very cold at night," he added, as though Sniper wouldn't be well aware, and then dropped his weight completely onto him, stretching out atop the expanse of his body.

As Sniper rolled out from under him – the warm slide of him, God, why was this old man so… firm? – he insisted firmly, "Nothing's happening except sleep."

"Do you… Do you not find me attractive?" Spook hesitated, chewing his lower lip until it was swollen and slick, which Sniper almost suspected was on purpose, but his voice quivered when he asked, "Is it because I am older?"

"That is not the issue here! Why are you so – what?!"

At the harsh bark of his voice, Spook had flinched, and dipped his gaze, eyelashes fanning out dark and lush over his pale skin. He licked his lips and it took several attempts before he stammered out, "But if you don't want me…"

Abruptly, realisation dawned. "Not this again." Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to soften his tone. " _Look_ , I rescued the rest of you lot, didn't I? Sent them back to the city where they can get help."

Spook looked unconvinced, but he nodded.

"So when I say I'll send you somewhere safe, take my word for it."

"Thank you, sir."

"And none of that sir stuff."

"Thank you, maste –"

" _No_." Groaning, Sniper turned his back on him and hid his face under his arm. "Sniper is fine. Now go to sleep."

A quiet rustling. Spook's mouth brushed against the nape of his neck as he whispered, "Good night, Sniper." It was thankfully silent after that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn't clear whether Spook actually understood, because although he had stopped cowering every time Sniper so much as moved quickly, but he was still very underdressed for the rest of the journey to the next safest pit stop.

In the morning when Sniper returned with the rabbit he'd hunted, Spook was hiding in the shadow of the van, clad only in his underwear and that scarf around his face, doing… body weight exercises. It was important for a slave to maintain his physique, Spook informed him as he rose from the push ups he was doing with his feet propped up against the camper, and it wouldn't do to sweat in the clothes Sniper had so kindly lent him. Then he merrily began to stretch out his shoulders, muscles glistening.

Sniper swallowed dryly, and thrust the rabbit carcass between them to ward him off, only to discover that Spook had an affinity with the knives; he easily skinned the rabbit and under Sniper's instruction dismembered it with impressive neatness. Sniper appreciated starting a fire without blood slick hands, or getting ash in the meat, almost as much as he appreciated Spook's sinewy forearms as he worked.

Spending the night in the camper had been a luxury they could no longer afford. The battery was running low and it made far more sense to the spend the night in the driver's cabin, a much smaller space to maintain heating.

Of course he usually had the entire cabin to himself and could spread his long legs out along the passenger seat. No chance of that with Spook occupying it, bundled up in Sniper's overlarge shirt, curled up first against the window but slowly drifting towards Sniper as the glass chilled.

At least it was warm, and he had drifted off to the edge of slumber when he was jostled awake. Reflexively, he grabbed the kukri he kept in the door compartment – and just managed to stop himself from slicing Spook's arm off.

A sudden blur of action, then Spook had pinned him down and was straddling his waist. He was quiet save for his harsh panting, eyes unfocused but the hand around Sniper's throat, around his wrist, unexpectedly steely. Recognising the signs of a nightmare, Sniper didn't fight back, but instead carefully relaxed back against the car seat, letting his blade drop with a quiet whump between the seat and the door.

"Hey," Sniper said softly. He didn't know what to do, but it didn't seem like he should touch him, so he lay perfectly still. "You alright?"

Spook dipped his head down to hide his expression, and it was a long minute before he got his breathing under control. Slowly, he sank down, until his sweaty forehead rested on Sniper's shoulder. He didn't resist when Sniper raised his hand slowly, and laid it atop his head, though whether ready to grab him by the scruff of his neck or pat him awkwardly, he wasn't yet sure.

When the moment dragged on and Spook showed no signs of moving from his awkward hunch, Sniper asked gruffly, "Hey, are you done?"

Spook stiffened. "Yes, of course, please forgive me, I didn't mean to –"

"That's not what I meant!" Sniper groaned, and decided to take matters into his own hands, repositioning Spook as gently as possible until he was in his lap and tucked beneath his chin, his long legs spilling into the passenger's seat. There, much better for the poor man's back. And if this worked to soothe frightened farm animals back in the day, it'd work for Spook. And sure enough, after the initial wary terseness, Spook settled cautiously into him, resting his head on Sniper's chest. Satisfied, Sniper closed his eyes. It was comfortable enough, cozy, that he was certain he would sleep well.

Sniper was at the brink of slumber when Spook murmured, "Sniper?" Sniper grunted into his hair in response, which Spook took as acquiescence to carry on. "What do you do?"

Sniper tried to peer at him, but with Spook's face buried in the nook between his neck and shoulder, all Sniper could see was his back, hunched over awkwardly in the low space. Sniper wants to run his fingers over the knobs of his spine. "I'm a sniper. I snipe people."

"So you kill people?" Spook asked. "For a living?"

"Problem?" he groused.

"Not really. There are people worth killing." He stopped, then lifted his head just enough to meet his gaze. "They said you were a fellow smuggler, you know, the men that sent me to you."

"I smuggle organs from the animals that I hunt myself. My employer buys smuggled weapons from them. Neither of us knew about –" all of a sudden he realised that his grip had tightened around Spook and abruptly, he loosened his arms "– all that other stuff."

"So you… wouldn't mind killing them?"

 _For me_ hung stiffly in the air around them. Was Spy alluding to revenge? Did he want Sniper to – what? Launch an attack on the entire cartel? "If they tried to stop us, yeah," seemed the best response. "Look, just focus on getting away from all these criminals. Build a better life and all that."

" _You're_ a criminal," Spook pointed out.

"Yea, I am." There didn't seem any reason to beat around the bush.

Spook didn't reply but finally some of that tension left him. He kept his hands to himself, arms folded around himself, but in that narrow space, he was inescapable.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Just as they began to run out of gas, they managed to pull into Sniper's next pit stop – a small town occupied by a small drug cartel. And around that lucrative business, a small community had sprung up around it. There was even a motel where they could take actual showers with hot water and sleep in real beds for the night. When they managed to top up the van without being recognised, Sniper allowed himself to feel hopefully. Perhaps they could even book a room to stay, find Spook transport to the nearest law-abiding city.

It was going so well too – gas tank and stomachs full, the keys to a room with two single beds and a private bathroom with an actual shower. Sniper wheezed at the first spray of cold water but otherwise thoroughly enjoyed scrubbing all that caked dirt and grime off – until Spy poked his head in, already half undressed.

The bathroom was a tiled square with a toilet and the shower faucet and nothing else; there was nowhere to hide. Sniper slammed his hand against the door, trying to force Spook out to no avail. "Get out!"

"Don't be shy. I can work with whatever you've got," Spook offered, jamming the door open with one shoulder and sneaking an arm in.

"Invasive!" Sniper barked. Why was such a skinny man so _strong_? Changing tactics, he released the door and clipped his jaw instead, forcing his head up. "How would you like it if, if –" Spy had gone still under his touch, eyes flickering to where Sniper's thumb had slid under the scarf, then back to Sniper. His breath was hitching, and Sniper could feel his quickening in turn. In contrast, Sniper's fingers moved achingly slow, lifting the thin fabric and letting it slither down to his shoulders.

Then Spook's face was bare. Time slowed as Sniper's gaze roamed across its sharp planes and soaked in every detail. The scarf never hid that Spook was handsome, but Sniper hadn't realised just how handsome. And weathered. It wasn't just the fine lines, the crows feet. There were faint marks scattered here and there, and a long ridge of pale tissue the bisected his left eyebrow and cut into his greying hairline. Every scar on that fine face seemed like a secret that Sniper was now privy to. And that fine face was drawing closer. Sniper's grip on the door had slackened, and Spy was leaning in.

Spy's hand slid up his ribs towards his chest, and startled him.

"Out!" Sniper barked, ushering him out and shutting the door on his stunned face.

When he emerged from the shower, Spy, profoundly vexed, pushed past him into the shower without a single glance. It was better this way, he decided. He was too busy to handle him right now, even if he could fathom how to. From his pocket, he fished out Medic's shopping list. Artificial hormones, testosterone, adrenaline, all that good stuff. He'd be running about the town for hours.

"I've gotta do some shopping. Think you can handle yourself for a bit?"

Narrowing his eyes, Spook peered out of the window. "I'll go look around for anyone willing to take on a hitchhiker."

Sniper frowned. "I'd rather you not. You can't do shit in these sorts of towns without connections."

"Don't I know it," Spook muttered darkly.

Sniper eyed him. Now that he'd seen what was underneath, the scarf seemed far too flimsy to hide that he was a distinctly finer quality man, which made him quite the appealing target. Still, it wasn't as though Sniper was going to dictate what he could and couldn't do. Reluctantly, he agreed, but before separating, took off his akubar and placed it on Spook's head, angling its wide brim down. "Here. At least take this."

Spook regarded the handgun with such surprise that Sniper had to double check himself, but there it was, freshly maintained and loaded. "You're giving me a weapon?"

"Why not?" Sniper patted his decidedly bigger rifle that was slung over his shoulder, and ignored when Spook snorted quietly. "Don't take any candy from strangers. I'll see you later."

 

 

* * *

 

 

His bounty tucked safely away in the camper, Sniper made his way back to their motel, in high spirits that lasted exactly two steps into the motel, where he spotted Spook, pushed up in the corner by a burly man, his thick beefy arm preventing Spook from leaving.

There was something odd about the Spook. If Sniper hadn't been a hunter, he would not have noticed his contradictory body language. There was the way Spook hunched in on himself, the timid furrow of his brow, and then the way he had his feet planted stubbornly, the anticipatory flex of his fingers before they curled into ready fists.

It seemed Spook was holding his own. However, when the man flicked the brim of his hat up, then reached for Spook's face, Sniper's temper flared with startling ferocity, and he found himself stomping over, teeth bared, low profile be damned. Seizing the scumbag's wrist, Sniper yanked him aside with enough force that he was tossed to the side.

Expression twisted with fury, Sniper stomped between the two. "I told you to stay inside!"

"I didn't want to just depend on you –"

"And why the hell not –"

"Oi, oi, what's the matter, faggot?" Pride injured at being so blatantly ignored, the man swaggered up to them again, baring his yellow teeth in a filthy, challenging leer. "Can't stand to share?"

"Don't touch him," Sniper snarled. Blood roared in his ears.

"C'mon, he's old and used, one more customer won't hurt." With a lecherous laugh, he reached for Spook again, except in place of his hand was a bleeding stump.

"Bugger," said Sniper, staring down at his kukri accusingly as the creep shrieked.

"While I appreciate you defending my chastity," said Spy slowly –

"It's you!" The man stumbled back against the wall, clutching his arm, face white and eyes wide with fear and recognition. "The psycho who's been freeing slaves!"

"– weren't we supposed to be keeping a low profile?"

Sniper rammed his kukri into his throat and _yanked_ , decapitating him, but it was too late. From down the hall, he could hear others coming to investigate. From the sound of it, there were many of them.

"Shit!" Hastily, Sniper flicked as much blood as he could off his kukri. Without his rifle, he couldn't afford to get its handle slick. And he had to be a fool, but Sniper found himself fishing out the keys to his precious camper, then forcing them into Spook's hand.

"I hope you know how to drive," Sniper muttered, then pushed him down the corridor when Spook only stared at them, and then at him, uncomprehending. "Go! Start the engine! If I'm not there in time, drive off. The map's in the glove compartment."

Finally, Spook snapped out of his stupor, and nodded, turning to leave. The noise of angry shouts were deafening by now. Sniper spun round just in time for the goons to round the corner, brandishing pistols. _Bugger._ He raised his hands in surrender.

"I don't know what happened, I swear!" Sniper cried, lurching towards them, "there was this handsome rogue who just attacked him out of nowhere!"

That threw them off track, and the lot of them faltered. "Handsome –" the ringleader began to say, confused, but by then he was already within Sniper's reach.

Quickly, Sniper plunged his kukri between his ribs. As he screamed, Sniper held his body up as a shield as his men roared and opened fire, to plough right into their midst. Up close, they couldn't fire their guns without risk of shooting each other. As they drew their knives, the fight turned into a brawl of flashing blades and tearing flesh.

Sniper was optimistic, but their numbers were too many. Each parried block was a closer shave than the one before, and it was only a matter of time before he was cut down. Sniper grit his teeth, and fought harder.

All of a sudden, their numbers began falling, leaving ribbons of blood as they fell face first to the ground. There was a great burst of red smoke, and through its tendrils emerged… Spook, balisong in hand, blood streaked and grinning fiercely.

"Are you fucking _kidding_ –"

"Come on!" Spook hissed, kicking an attacker in the face as he thrust his handgun into Sniper's more capable hands. Spook grabbed his wrist like a vice and dragged him down the hallway towards the exit. Then they were running to the exit, Spook leading them on the shortest path, Sniper gunning their captors down with pinpoint accuracy.

The guards by the gates were already dead, their backs slick and crimson. In the confusion, no one else paid them any attention, leaving them a clear path to the van. And at the first sign of trouble, the other vehicles had begun racing to pull out, so they blended in very nice as they fled the town.

Soon, they were screeching away on the open road, racing to freedom.

Wheezing, Sniper collapsed back against the passenger seat. He closed his eyes, giving himself a much needed moment to take a few calming breaths, and mourn that they were getting blood on his seats. Just his bloody luck. Then he turned to Spook.

" _So_ ," he growled, and let it hang in the air menacingly.

Spook glanced at him with a thin lipped smile, knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. "I suppose you have questions."

 

 

* * *

 

 


	2. High Water

"Who hired you?" Sniper demanded. His whetstone whistled ominously across the edge of his kukri. They were parked again off the road somewhere, sitting outside the camper because it didn't seem safe crammed into an enclosed space together. What he really wanted to do was tackled the lying snake and rub his stupid, deceiving face into the sand, but both were too professional to leave their weapons caked in grit and blood. Spook had finished wiping his balisong down and was oiling it, but his pistol at least, was remained with Sniper.

To Spy's defence, he didn't even try to lie. "Saxton Hale."

"The weapon's magnate?" His whetstone faltered. "Why would he care about a bunch of slavers?"

"They smuggle weapons as well. _His_ weapons, stolen right off their delivery route." Spy eyed the kukri, but folded away his cleaned balisong, and continued, "My team and I have free reign to destroy their gang as we see fit, so we decided to start where is most urgent."

"And the best way was to dress up as a slave?!"

"Would a barbarian like you rather wreck havoc haphazard across this godforsaken gravel pit?" "It's called espionage! I was about to discover their base of operations when some asshole blew up my ride! And then freed the slaves so my teammates had to drive them back!"

Sniper only vaguely remembered the drivers, one goggled, the other pale and scrawny. "So you snuck into my van?!"

"You blew them up! Alone! I thought they were your enemy as well, and we could take them down together! How was I supposed to know you just lack impulse control?!"

"And you never thought to just be honest?!" When Spook had no reply to that, Sniper banged a fist on the side of his camper, and kept on yelling. " _Hey Sniper, I'm taking down human bloody traffickers, wanna come along?_ That never occurred to you?!"

"I'm a _spy_!" he shouted back, waving a hand at himself. He had stripped off his blood soaked clothes, and instead of the scarf, he now wore a red ski mask – he had hidden it behind Sniper's cans of rations, along with a variety of gadgets and an entire fucking suit – which he seemed to think made him look more like a spy. Sniper rather thought he looked like an idiot. "We're not _supposed_ to be honest! Especially not to oblivious fools who slaughter my ticket to their main headquarters!"

"Well _excuse me_ for killing a bunch of slavers!" Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sniper collapsed back against the van. He asked, quieter, "And then after that? Did you really think, after all this time, I'd try to stop you?"

"You work for the mad doctor," Spy protested weakly, "he's a patron of their smuggling."

"Doc?" Sniper rolled his eyes. "He's just a madman who buys exotic animal organs. A madman with _morals_." He paused. "Certain morals. Anyway, Heavy wouldn't let him, not with his past. Hell, he'd be glad to lend a hand to your efforts."

"So, if I told you and your team –"

"We would have helped you!"

"Okay, well, that's settled then!"

"Good!" Sniper's ire was quickly draining away. Now that Spy's secret was out in the open, it explained many things that Sniper had found odd, but didn't question. He eyed Spook, who had started to shiver as his sweat dried. Sand seemed to cover him head to toe. " _Good._ Maybe now you'd put on some… Wait a minute."

Sniper straightened suddenly. Images of the past week flashed in his mind – Spy spread out across his mattress, Spy pushed up against him at the table, that sly smirk, the enticing line of his throat – and lord help him if he wasn't twice as attracted now that he knew all the long, lean muscles were _capable._ "If I were already taking you along, why'd you still try to seduce me?"

For a split second, Spy wavered, then he grit his teeth stubbornly, and ground out, "I wanted to."

Sniper stared. " _Wanted to_."

"Yes." Despite the flush creeping over the edge of his mask, Spy tilted his chin up defiantly, as if daring him to comment disparagingly. "Thanks to you, I didn't have to pretend to be an actual slave, and –"

"You tried to seduce me out of _gratitude?"_

"– and you certainly complicated things, what with your _morals_ and _compassion_." There was a distinct sulk in his voice.

Which reminded Sniper. "So all that bullshit about the _children_ …"

"I wasn't lying entirely." Spy pursed his lips into a thin line, hesitant, but Sniper crossed his arms and stared hard. He owed Sniper at least this much. Reluctantly, Spy explained, "A younger member of my team was sent to infiltrate the ring at first, being closer to the age of their victims. When you interrupted, it seemed we would need to send him in again, and I did not want that." He shrugged, a careless gesture, but it seemed more that he was trying to shake the tension from his shoulders. "Better I than him."

Bloody hell. All this and Sniper still found reason to hold him in grudging admiration. If Sniper believed him. And despite everything that had happened, the false circumstances in which they met, Sniper _did_ believe him.

It seemed impossible that Sniper had mistaken him as anything but lethal. In retrospect, those eyes were sharp and sly, and however willowy he had made himself out to be, Sniper now recognised an unmistakably well trained and tightly coiled body.

"You're not a sex slave," Sniper said carefully, focusing on the simple things he could best comprehend, because in the end, he was a simple man, "And you _wanted_ to have sex with me.

" _Want_ to," Spy corrected, and that sly, hopeful gleam returned to his eyes. He placed a hand on Sniper's neck, and slide it up to cup his jaw.

Snarling, Sniper gave into desire and tackled Spy into the sand – then grabbed him by the collar and drag him into a furious kiss, biting his lip and shoving his tongue into his mouth. Spy groaned and kissed back frantically, finally, shoving a hand into Sniper's back pocket and squeezing. Even the scratch and sting of sand could not distract from the intoxicating feel of Spy beneath him, arching up to press them closer still. And Spy was shuddering and gasping in _French_ , which he didn't understand but could recognise as _begging_ –

Sniper ripped himself away. Panting, he held Spy at an arm's length away when he tried to push up into another kiss.

" _No_ ," said Sniper, wiping his mouth with his other hand. He spat sand and grimaced.

"No?!" Spy demanded incredulously, two hands on his shoulders, trying futilely to pull him back in.

"No. I'm _angry_ at you," Sniper added, swallowing thickly to clear the heady desire that was choking him. To prove his point, he jerked to his feet and shook his head like a wet dog, sending obnoxious clouds of sand billowing around them.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Sputtering, Spy scrambled back and flattened himself against the van. "And where are you going?!"

"To bed!" Sniper wrenched the door of his camper open and, beating what he could of the sand off his person, stomped inside. "I'm tired from being on the run and since _someone_ got us kicked out of the motel –"

"You're blaming me for _you_ killing a pervert?" Spy seethed, catching the door before Sniper could slam it shut, and slamming it open instead.

"– by letting me lose my temper when you could've damn well gotten yourself out of that situation!"

After a brief moment of aggrieved disbelief, Spy stalked in after him and spitefully shook the sand off his person onto the camper's floor.

Sniper glared down at him. "You sure you want to do that on the floor you're sleeping on?"

" _Like hell_." Vehemently, Spy shoved into the alcove with him, all bony angles and malice jabbing him into the corner of his own damned mattress.

It was only after the two nearly toppled out that they retreated into frigid silence. Spy still had a stubborn arm around his waist, which Sniper could not remove no matter how hard he tried. Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. He tried to wrest the offending arm off one last time, and got a sharp bite to his earlobe in retaliation. Cursing under his breath, he relented, and shut his eyes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _"Sniper."_ Now that Spy had given up his his pretence, a distinct French accent seeped back into his words. "Good morning."

Sniper squinted balefully at him through the dust clouds that had kicked up as he cleared out his camper of sand.

Spy was leaning out of the camper with a mug of coffee stretched out in offering, though he was pointedly wearing Sniper's shirt, unbuttoned, which wasn't long enough to cover the tight stretch of his silk boxers.

"… Mornin'," he muttered back, then realised he too no longer had any reason to hold back – except _to piss Spy off_ , which he felt was well within his right. So as he took the mug from him, he let his fingers stroke across the back of Spy's hand, like Spy had done to him that first day. And when he stalked past Spy into the van, he slid his fingers across Spy's hip, down the curve of his arse, then _left_ , just as Spy was starting to arch into his touch. Spy shot him a horrid look but Sniper, unrepentant, threw himself onto the seat and slurped his coffee noisily.

While Sniper was distinctly aware that he was punishing himself as well, it was well worth the looks that Spy reacted with – the bafflement of a painfully attractive man being rejected, then indignation that he'd been rejected by a _filthy bushman_ – all things of beauty that resolved Sniper to resisting every sly wayward glance, and seductive tilt of his hips.

Spy would have none of it, and before they set off again, he crowded Sniper against the counter and trapped him there with an arm on each side. "What else could possibly be holding you back?!"

"Has it ever occurred to you that I'm just _not attracted_ –" Spy merely raised an eyebrow and Sniper had to drop that line of attack. Instead, he demanded, "How do I know you're not trying to trick me again?"

"Into what? Sex with _you_ ? Would I _want you so much_ that –" it was Sniper's turn to raise his eyebrow, and Spy snorted, but conceded. "Fine. _Tres bien._ I want you, you want me – what's the problem then?!"

"The problem is!" Sniper hadn't thought that far. What _was_ it, holding him back? There was the lingering wrongness from the circumstances of their meeting of course, but it was more than that. There was a clench in Sniper's chest warning him against further involving himself with this silk sheathed serpent. It wouldn't just be a one night stand, it couldn't be, not when the elegant image of him in battle was already etched in the back of Sniper's eyelids, not when he knew how that powerful figure felt curled up and tucked warm and trusting in his arms.

Sniper could have him for the night, but Spy would have him for far longer – the days, weeks, months after that, however long it would take for Sniper to forget him, if he ever did at all. Such was the way with stoked and unsatisfied longing.

"I can't," Sniper said finally, "I just can't."

Spy looked at him for a moment, expression unreadable, before he leaned in and touched their mouths together, the chastest kiss and nothing more, piercing eyes waiting for Sniper's reaction. And though it burned at their point of contact, Sniper steeled his resolve and refused to react.

Something flickered in Spy's eyes, almost like hurt, and then it dimmed and he was pulling back, lips pressed into a thin line. It twanged his heartstrings but before Sniper could make his excuses, Spy had turned and was tapping a finger on the map spread out on the table.

"You are picking up ammo from the next location, yes?" All business again. Sniper could only nod at his brusque question. "Good. Keep pretending that you own me. Make it seem as though you sent me to run errands, it'll be easier for me to move around the city. I attract far too much attention as I am."

"Right. Sure. Just don't get into any more trouble." And in case it gave away his concern, Sniper added, "Can't have us getting kicked out before I finish my errands."

Spy clicked his tongue as he breezed out of the camper and headed to the passenger seat. "You underestimate me. Now that I know I have you by my side," a hesitation so brief it might've been Sniper's imagination, "as an _ally_ , my movement is no longer restricted."

As promising as that sounded, Sniper knew a smooth run was too much to hope for.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Now that Sniper knew to look, he had front row seats from his perch atop the water tower of the current measly settlement, to how Spy got them thrown out next: by tripping the heavily tattooed man who was pawing at the young gas attendant. The brute's face contorted with rage as he fell towards Spy, and then shock as he slid off clutching his gored open stomach, staring shocked at the knife that had suddenly appeared in Spy's hand.

Sniper sighed in fond exasperation, and then shot the man's comrade through his temple as he sneaked up behind Spy. The gas attendant shrieked and scampered away, but Spy only scowled at the grey matter splattered on his jacket and then had the audacity to glare up in the direction the shot had come from.

When Spy spotted him, Sniper waved jauntily and used his laser scope to dot the ground in front of him, then jerk it towards the van. Time to go. Spy gave him a curt nod, paused, then pointed beneath Sniper, giving him just enough time to slice off the intruder's fingers before she made it up to his nest.

When they reunited at the camper, Spy frowned at the two corpses beneath its tires, kicking an arm out of the way before hopping into the cabin, where Sniper was waiting.

"Old rivals," Sniper explained as he revved into gear and swung out of the parking lot, angry shouts already resounding behind them.

"So you ran far away to shoot them?"

"Saved your life while I was at it –"

Spy paused, a cigarette halfway to his mouth, to sneer at him. "I beg to differ!"

"– and _anyway_ there were more of them. Bloody bogans tried to key my baby. I needed a high vantage point to protect her from all sides."

" _Baby_ ," repeated Spy, incredulous. There was amusement in his tone, disguised as mockery.

"Don't you dare," Sniper warned, but there was a grin tugging the corner of his mouth. "This baby's your ride to accomplishing your mission."

"And what a ride it has been," Spy drawled.

Sniper turned his hapless grin out the window. It really had been quite the trip, a far more exhilarating job than anything he'd taken since leaving Australia.

"And what was all that bullshit about me being a criminal?" asked Sniper, over a canned dinner. "S'not like you're any better."

"Mind you, I am better by any measure," Spy rebuked, primly scooping out a sliver of mushy sardine to glare at it.

"But still a criminal."

" _Oui_ , still a criminal."

Sighing, Sniper swapped his can of baked beans for his tin of sardines. "A professional has _standards_. Just because the law doesn't agree with them doesn't make them any less important. I'd just be a crazed gunman otherwise."

Spy finally deigned to take a dainty bite. "Mhm."

"Which I'm not," Sniper insisted, stabbing the fish with more force than necessary.

"Certainly not."

And still, Sniper couldn't muster anything more than shallow irritation. Travelling with Spy was _fun_ . He'd partnered up before, but could barely remember their faces now – and that was how it was supposed to be, what the hell, he was supposed to be an independent professional, but their looming separation gave him such a sense of unease. He didn't even _want_ to protest anymore when Spy climbed in under the sheets behind him, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

A while later, Sniper jolted awake, a hand halfway to the kukri under his pillow until he realised it was just Spy, who now sat cross legged and hunched in on himself.

"Those nightmares weren't faked too?" he groused, falling back against the mattress.

"What a high opinion of me you must have," murmured Spy, "if you think I am that capable an actor."

"Almost strangled me that first time," Sniper mused, rubbing his neck where there was the ghost of a bruise. "Should've been my first clue you weren't all you seemed."

"How very unobservant for a professional," Spy agreed. He tilted his head just slightly to peer at Sniper over his shoulder."At least you don't have a kukri this time –"

Sniper slid the kukri out from under his pillow, and Spy snorted with something like humour. It unravelled the knot in Sniper's chest, and he reached out to run his knuckles against Spy's side, feeling the tension slowly drain out of him.

Evidently, Sniper hadn't learnt his lesson, because he opened his big mouth and asked, "Don't suppose you want to talk about it?"

Spy laughed finally, shooting him an incredulous look.

"Well, bugger. That's all I've got." Sniper sighed, more at himself, and said, "Come here."

"Please, I hardly need to be babied," Spy retorted, but the sky was still dark and Sniper suspected something like _tenderness_ had unwittingly started to take root in his chest; he was too tired to deal with any of it.

"Spy, just shut up and come here." Sniper extended his arms again, beckoning, but didn't reel him in until Spy surrendered and shuffled back down next to him. Grunting with satisfaction, Sniper rearranged him until he was tucked neatly under his chin, and rubbed his back in small, calming circles.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I'm going back to sleep," Spy told him pointedly, even as he tightened an arm around Sniper's waist.

Sniper chuckled, his mouth brushing the crown of his head for lack of space. "Gnight, Spy."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sniper arched an eyebrow when Spy slinked out of the camper van, donning a three piece suit, vest and all. He hadn't the faintest clue how Spy appeared so unruffled by the sweltering heat.

"This town's a bit of a mystery." Spy explained as he strode over to Sniper's side. "None of the major cartels have claim over it. The only attraction seems to be a tavern boasting high quality ale. It would not hurt to make a strong impression."

"A tavern? _Ale?_ " Sniper perked up.

When Sniper pushed through the tavern doors, he heaved a sigh of relief as Demo's distinct laughter crackled through the air. Finally, a safe place to recuperate and regroup. Before he could get a word out, Demo spotted him, blabbered something slurred with intoxication, then buckled him into a tight hug.

Hovering just behind him, Spy leaned close and muttered, "Friend of yours?" When Sniper nodded, he tempered down his distaste. Sniper appreciated the healthy respect for his teammates. "Well met." He gave Demo a curt nod.

"This here's our Demoman," Sniper wheezed out, struggling out from the hug.

"Nice t'meet you!" Demo let him go at last,only to try and sling an arm around Spy. "And you are…?"

Spy dodged, flicking his cigarette as though a bit of ash would ward off a demolitions expert. "Not fond of touching."

"Spy, play nice!"

"Ach, a spy? He getting you in trouble? We heard about the carnage you'd been leaving in your wake. I came to find you."

Sniper stepped between them, and narrowed his eyes at Demo. "Nothing to do with the ale here of course."

"I dunnae have any idea what you're talking about." He beamed, cherubic, then jerked his thumb at the counter. "They've got a secure line. The team would love to hear from you."

Which they did, as Sniper made the call from the tavern's private line, Demo pressed up against him to eavesdrop. Heavy, as predicted, was apoplectic when he found out, and Medic, after being assured his medical supplies were secure, more than willing to take to the field. As Sniper hung up, he informed Spy brightly, "My team's on board with taking them down."

"I heard," Spy deadpanned. Quite likely, judging by the large berth that had formed around them, everyone in the bar had heard Heavy bellowing about plugging the slavers with holes, and then plugging those holes further. "Your friend here is willing as well."

"Oo we'll smear them into the dirt!" Demo took a long pull of scrumpy and thunked the bottle down.

Spy nodded approvingly, even as he edged towards the staircase that lead up to the rooms above the bar.

"There is nothing else that can be done now, so I think it best we retire for the night," was all Spy said, and he kept his hands to himself, but the subtle angle of his body towards Sniper gave him away.

"Aye, of course." Demo's single eye sparkled mischievously.

"Long journey and all that." Spy smiled beatifically.

"Time to get some rest," said Sniper weakly, who didn't want any part of Spy's nonsense but could also sense that Demo was about to wink at him, a hideously exaggerated thing to differentiate it from his one eyed blinking. Cornered, Sniper tripped up the stairs after Spy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"So now that that's settled," said Spy, dropping to his knees between Sniper's legs and nuzzling the inseam of his pants, "How about we –"

Groaning, Sniper dragged him up and jammed their mouths together in a desperate kiss – only to rip himself away yet again. Where had his famed self-control disappeared off to? There was a thunderous thumping in his chest that he couldn't attribute only to sexual attraction, and it frightened him.

"Fine!" Spy snapped, unaware of his inner turmoil, "Have it your way!" except instead of pulling away, he hauled Sniper further onto the bed, manhandling him until he had no choice but to lie down, then aligned their bodies together so that their legs were tangled and he could mouth at Sniper's neck, and _then_ shoved his own hand into his own pants.

"What are you doing?!"

Spy replied by moaning low and needy into his ear, long calloused fingers working desperately around his cock.

"You can't be fucking serious –" Sniper cut off with a gasp when Spy shoved a thigh between his, forcing them closer. Instinctively, Sniper ground down and electricity raced up his spine. Before he knew it, he was rocking his hips, groaning helplessly. It wasn't nearly enough, not like the way Spy was urgently jerking himself to climax, writhing against him, gasping his name in his ear. Spy came with a violent shudder that Sniper could feel reverberating between their bodies, spurting across Sniper's stomach.

Finally Spy slackened, and fell on top of him in a graceless sprawl, sighing contentedly.

Sniper's desire choked him and he was desperate to get off but when he tried to move, Spy's arms grew tight and unforgiving around his waist.

"Let me go!" And when that didn't work, "Fuck you!" he hissed spitefully.

Spy whipped his head up to glower at him. "You had your chance!"

A constant stream of cursing, cheeks hot with embarrassment, Sniper rutted against Spy's thigh like he was an ungainly teenager again, desperate to get off. Worse still, it worked. He could feel himself quickly approaching the edge of his release, defenceless against the feel of Spy's body, his wiry frame, the smell of him, smoke and sex. And Spy knew it too, the blighter, for he stroked down to his arse and groped, and nipped his throat, and demanded in that roughened voice for Sniper to come.

Which he did, groaning and shaking and gasping. It took a long moment for Sniper to catch his breath, with which he hissed fervently, _"I hate you."_

"No you don't," Spy replied sleepily, and of course the smug bastard was right. In truth, Sniper's problem was quite the opposite.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The blaring of alarms shook Sniper awake. It was closely followed by screaming, then the mad rush of footsteps and vehicles screeching away from the bar. He'd have joined in, but Spy had a vice grip around his waist and was blearily mumbling against his neck, "No need to panic. My teammates are just clearing out whoever had pursued us here. I've informed them to leave alone the black cyclops."

There was a distinct thread of exasperation through his sleep roughened voice, and Sniper thought it might have something to do with the muffled but distinctive maniacal laughter, or that one loud braying voice that kept hollering "Bonk!" followed by what sounded like thick metal shattering skulls.

With growing apprehension, Sniper rolled out of bed to get dressed, only pausing to glare at Spy as he scraped dried cum off his shirt.

"Your fault," Spy told him sweetly, more relaxed that morning, and it was only the noisy slaughter being carried out by his teammates beneath them that Sniper resisted slapping him upside the head.

As they made their way down the hallway and through the corpses, Sniper trailing slightly behind Spy. There was a nervous fluttering in his stomach that he'd never felt before, possibly because he'd never been in a meet the family type of situation. As soon as the thought entered his head, he blanched at himself. Pitiful.

Spy shot him a queer look and with impossible insight, reassured him, "I'm sure they'll like you fine."

It wasn't as though Sniper was expecting more lanky, slinky Frenchmen (for better or worse, Sniper believed Spy to be one of a kind), but he certainly hadn't expected Spy's teammates to be such a motley crew – the scrappy young thing with a baseball bat, and two hard hatted men, one face hidden by an oversized army helmet and the other by round goggles.

As soon as introductions were made, Soldier picked Sniper up by the collar, and slammed him against the wall, and drew one meaty fist back. Demo sprang to Sniper's aid.

"I do not care what he has done for the mission!" Soldier roared, trying to yank his fist out from Demo's grasp. "If he so much as laid a finger on you –"

"Are you… trying to defend my dignity?" Spy demanded, incredulous.

"Yea Solly!" Scout called, "Don't you know he doesn't have any?"

Sniper yelped, "I've not touched him!"

"He really hasn't," Spy agreed disdainfully.

"Hoh? I didn't know _that_ –" Engineer nudged Spy cheekily then jerked his chin towards Sniper. "– was your type."

"Oi! Watch your mouth!" Demo, wrestling Soldier back, sticking up for his friend.

"No! _You_ watch _your_ mouth!" But Soldier wasn't having it. "Fuck that guy!"

Fed up, Spy snapped his cigarette and yelled, "I'm trying!"

His frustration resounded across the dinner. A silence descended after.

And then when Soldier pounced on Sniper again, Demo was too busy doubled over laughing to hold him back. Sniper found himself hoisted in the air, shaken violently, then shoved into Spy's face, as Soldier bellowed, "What the hell is wrong with you?! Spy is a fine man who _deserves your_ –"

Sniper thrashed wildly, resolutely avoiding even looking at Spy. His ears burned. "Don't finish that sentence!"

" _Merde_ ," said Spy faintly, and lit another cigarette.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When settled down, planning go good, Spy's teammates were capable and his Engineer's gadgets especially useful.

It was a simple enough plan:

Return Spy to the slavers, this time as a spy, so that he would be delivered to their boss for judgement. Upon arriving at their base, Spy would slip away and set off a flare that the teams would be on the lookout for. Better yet if he could sap their communication system so they could not call for backup.

"There has to be a better way," Sniper insisted, unmindful of the odd looks he was attracting. He was getting desperate, because he couldn't think of any, but like hell he was delivering Spy back to bloody slavers in a hand basket.

Spy furrowed his brow and placed his hands on his hips, as though he really couldn't decipher why Sniper was so unwilling. "I can handle myself. The situation calls for quiet, close quartered killings; I'm more suited than anyone else."

"That's not the point." Panic clawed up Sniper's throat. Never mind that Spy had proven time and again that he could take care of himself. Never mind that he'd already gone through with this sort of mission, before a bushman had thwarted it. … _Why_ was he being so stubborn, anyway? Why –

"Then I do not understand why you are so concerned –" then Spy froze, and his eyes widened with the same awful comprehension.

"Bugger," said Sniper with feeling, and fled the room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Spy found him in their room a few moments later. He locked the door behind him carefully, then regarded Sniper with a pitying look. "Is this why you kept resisting me?" He gestured at the rapidly dwindling space between them as he strode towards him.

Sniper smoldered stonily at Spy's left shoulder, studiously avoided his gaze, but already his hands were reaching out and wrapping around Spy's waist.

"Idiot," said Spy, and then kissed him, this time soft and tender in a way that had Sniper chasing after when Spy pulled away.

"You – you want –"

"I want you," Spy said huskily, leaning in to nuzzle behind his ear. "Had we not established this before?"

"And not just sex –"

"I want _you_ ," Spy enunciated slowly, and then since Spy was starting to look smug and a wee bit condescending, a devious gleam to his storm grey eyes, Sniper captured him in a fiercer kiss, as his hands searched for all the places that made Spy keen.

"Finally," Spy gasped, dragging him back towards the bed and throwing him onto it. "We could've done this two days ago." With one smooth move, he yanked off his mask, then Sniper's belt out of its loops.

"We could've done this two _weeks_ ago!" Groaning, Sniper arched off the bed so Spy could fully removed his pants.

Since there seemed no winning this argument, Spy put his mouth to good use instead. He shimmied down the bed, one arm braced across Sniper's hips, then licked into him in one long stripe.

Sniper gasped and tried to buck futilely onto that wily tongue, a litany of curses tumbling out. He'd held back for far too long, and soon he was tipping over into oblivion.

"Done so soon?" Sitting astride Sniper's stomach, Spy licked the mess smeared across his mouth and chin, grinning down at him even as his hard cock dribbled between them.

With a growl, Sniper tackled him to the bed.

"What's the rush, bushman?" Spy teased. He leaned in, but paused when he saw the flickering in Sniper's expression, and huffed. "You still underestimate me?" Then his expression softened into an exasperated smile. "I will return, Sniper. And I will return _to you."_

The flush started from his ears and crept down his neck. Sniper clung to that cocky self-assurance, and distracted himself with the intoxicating heat emanating from Spy's body.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"You've got some fuckin' nerve showing up," the thug spat. Almost as tall as Sniper but twice as broad in his padded vest, a rifle in hand and packing more heat on his person. Behind him was a single truck, reinforced with shining steel and mounted with a gatling gun. And Sniper hadn't even had to find this blighter; as soon as they had parked by the side of an empty stretch of highway, sitting ducks, the truck had appeared out of the blue, looming up behind them.

Somehow, Sniper hadn't any problem summoning the ire to act as the vicious bushman. Not with Spy beside him, hands bound behind his back, one eye bruised for effect. Medic would rid of it in a quick second, but it wasn't any easier for Sniper to look at it. He snarled, "This arsehole tricked me. Turns out he's a spy. I came to give him back."

The thug regarded them suspiciously, before throwing open the box of the truck. He kept a close eye on them, as Sniper tossed Spy in. "We appreciate it returning our property. We'll have fun with this one."

Bile rose in his throat, but Sniper forced it down. "I know I sure did." He would vomit, if he had to say anymore. Abruptly, Sniper seized Spy with a fist in his shirt, and dragged him over, biting into his mouth with a bloody kiss. And in the tussle, Sniper slid a pocket watch up Spy's sleeve, and tucked it from view behind the knot of rope around his wrists.

Faintly, he heard the thug whistling, then guffawing lecherously. Sniper shoved him away and bared his teeth in a grin that promised blood, though whose blood, he let the guard misinterpret.

With ice in his veins, Sniper watched as the truck sped off, taking Spy along with it.

 

 

* * *

 

  

The flare that split the sky was more a magnificent shaft of pulsing red light. Engie, leaning out of his truck window, gave a low self-satisfied whistle and floored it. Sniper grinned as well; the base was a lot nearer than he'd expected. They'd be reunited – the whole lot of them, his own team on a lookout for the flare as well, _Spy_ – soon enough.

As they screeched into the dilapidated town, Sniper could tell his team arrived first, because the half base was already engulfed in a sea of fire. Whooping, Scout and Soldier charged forward to join Pyro. And a short distance away, Sniper spotted the red glow of Medic's medigun drifting over the line of women and children that Heavy was herding out and towards safety.

Despite the overwhelming desire to dive into the fray and battle his way to Spy like an idiot hero of one of Australia's many war stories, Sniper slipped into the shadows along the fort walls, following Scout's advice as he whizzed past, yelling out the highest and emptiest post for Sniper to set up in.

The first head that popped into fine mist was cathartic, the next one even more so. Finally he was back in his element, the best marksman this side of the world and then some, and it almost distracted from the worry churning his stomach.

There was a noisy clatter behind him. He spun round in time to see an enemy thug who had been creeping up behind him gurgle wetly and plunge to the floor.

Spy stepped delicately over his corpse. Sniper had never seen a more breathtaking sight. His face stretched into a grin, and he –

An explosion blinded them. The sharp sting of smoke in their nostrils. The battle. Fighting for their lives and the lives of others. Right. Sniper swung back, squinting through his scope, and by three quick, consecutive headshots, Spy was chortling lowly in his ear.

"Impressive," Spy crooned, pressed against his side and surveying the view from his post.

"Best of the bloody best!" Sniper barked with laughter, then yelled over the chaos, "Our teams are getting along well!" Reload. Aim. Fire. A barrel of explosive across the battlefield went up in magnificent flames, taking out the latest wave of reinforcements. Pyro cackled, and bounced into the fire, swinging his axe excitedly.

"Soldier's only lost his hand twice!" Holding his pistol steady, Spy crippled the goon sneaking up on Engineer's dispenser with an accuracy that even Sniper was slightly impressed and rather aroused by. "He didn't even have to duct tape it back – Medic reattached it both times!"

"And he seems very fond of our Demoman!" Sniper agreed, as the two in question blasted through the air together to rain havoc on their enemies.

"Speaking of which, _mon cher_ –" All of a sudden, he jerked Sniper over and kissed him savagely, plundering his mouth with a wicked tongue, then biting down sharply on his lower lip. Pain flared, and the taste of copper filled his mouth. "My thanks for the Dead Ringer. It came in handy."

Before disappearing again, Spy shot him one last smirk – it was wild eyed and glorious against the fiery backdrop, blood smeared across his lips, and Sniper cursed at its effect in him, chest tightening around his stuttering heart. Sniper howled, aggrieved and long-suffering and _gleeful_ , then dove back into battle.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Somewhere below in the motel's bar, the celebrations were in full swing, their teammates' voices occasionally drifting in in loud hoots and rambunctious. But Sniper and Spy, jostling under the covers in the dark of their borrowed room, could not hear nor notice any of that.

Their clothes were tossed carelessly at the foot of the bed, Spy's mask flung atop the pile. At long last; all that delectable skin under his greedy, roaming hands, with no urgent mission weighing down on them. And when it still wasn't enough, Sniper put his mouth to Spy's heated flesh, nipping and sucking as he sought out all the spots that made him cry out. He was so positively delighted to find that Spy's chest was sensitive that before he realised, Spy was crying out, the length of his body drawn taut like a bowstring.

"Hmm." Sniper sat back on his haunches, ran a finger along the underside of Spy's spent cock. "I was going to use that."

Arm thrown over his flushed face, Spy moaned feebly, trying to wriggle away with little success. He raked a hand into Sniper's hair and tugged him down to distract him with kisses. "You'll just have to wait."

But while making out was nice and all – very nice, Sniper whined into Spy's mouth when he felt nimble fingers slicking into him – it just wasn't enough. Shivering impatiently with lust, he shimmied down Spy's body, ignoring Spy's protests.

"Not lettin' you off that easily," he growled against Spy's inner thigh.

"I'm hardly young enough to –" Spy's protest pitched into a shout as Sniper took his sensitive cock into his mouth. Gasping, he arched off the bed, garbled French spilling from his lips. Sniper smirked best he could with his mouth stretched wide open, at the hands that burrowed into his hair and tugged, then hollowed his cheeks around Spy's girth, sucking and licking with professional efficiency until Spy was hard again.

"There we go," he purred, cupping Spy's face, who was hazy with desire. Holding his needy, lust hazy gaze as he sank down into his cock. Sniper couldn't help whining at the searing heat stretching him open and filling him up entirely. And then he could only hang on for dear life as Spy fucked him at a brutal pace.

 _"Sniper, Sniper."_ Spy's tongue flitted around his name with naked adoration. Trembling with every wave of electric pleasure, Sniper locked his arms around Spy's shoulders and clung on. To think he once feared that the memory of Spy would haunt him for months. Now he knew he would never escape.

 

 

* * *

 

 

For a short, blissful second, Sniper woke slow and luxurious, a pleasant ache settled all over his body. Then he noticed the bed was empty, and the lump in his throat only grew when he heard Spy at the door of their room, talking to his teammate in low, urgent tones. Then too soon, Spy shut the door, Scout's exaggerated retching faded into the distance. As he returned to bed, pulling his mask off once again, Sniper hastily shut his eyes and hunched in on himself. He tried to feign sleep when the mattress dipped with Spy's weight.

"Either you are only pretending to sleep," said Spy, hand drifting warm across his back, "or I have fucked you to your death."

Abruptly, Sniper realised he had been holding his breath in keeping as still as possible. It left him in a sheepish puff. Grudgingly, he rolled over, and arched into Spy's touch, headbutting his palm as it slid upwards. There was no harm being shameless, if this were the last he would see of him.

Huffing, Spy stroked his hair obligingly. "My team and I will be heading off soon," he mentioned, off-handed as though he hadn't just taken a knife to Sniper's gut. "To mop up what's left of the cartel, and retrieve Hale's weapons."

"That's… good." Sniper winced, and tried to insert a bit more conviction into his tone. "That's great! You succeeded on your mission. Nice."

"That I did." Spy huffed again; Sniper was begin to suspect it was laughter. "It is, however, not quite over yet." A paused. "Do you want to come with me?"

Sniper froze. "You want me to… tag along on your mission? That's hardly professional. And I've only just reunited with my team. I don't know yet if we have any job lined up."

Spy did not deny any of this. "And you are nothing if not professional. So you don't –"

"I want to," Sniper interrupted, flushing hotly. He cleared his throat, and declared as evenly as he could, "I'll go with you."

"Excellent!" With a wide, almost relieved grin, Spy collapsed onto the bed, stretching out against him. "Because Mann Co has an opening for you, and the rest of your team. Scout's just informed me the others are already on board."

Sniper couldn't believe his ears. He propped himself up on an elbow and glared through his blush. "You sneaky little –"

"You love me for it," Spy crowed, and he was smirking, but God, Sniper just might. It probably hadn't been long enough yet for his ornery heart to have fallen in love, but he knew he was well on his way. He was jolted out of his pouting as Spy buried his fingers into his hair, and held his head still, studying his face intently. He must have liked what he saw, because with a small laugh, he dragged Sniper down into a kiss, then looped his arms around Sniper's waist as Sniper settled on top of him.

"You love me for it," Spy repeated cheerfully, incredulously.

"Don't get a big head about it," Sniper grumbled into the crook of Spy's neck.

"My head is perfectly sized, as you are well aware." Spy hummed thoughtfully; Sniper could hear his heartbeat thrumming through the press of their bodies. "I do not do things in half measure. You're coming with _me_?"

Neither did Sniper. Hiding his wide grin, Sniper replied with utmost certainty, "Yea, I am."

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my fav part is where they keep repeating themselves and each other like buttheads ahahahaha. [tumblr](http://izazaa.tumblr.com/tagged/mine) here!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2's more or less done, I just haven't had the time to beta it. Hit me up here on [tumblr](http://izazaa.tumblr.com/post/165889403876/come-hell-or-high-water-izazaa-crazyground) if you want to lend a hand/save me from awful continuity. Thanks for reading!


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